


Wolf's Fury and Stag's Blood

by Gay_as_fuck



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Ambiguity, Animal Metaphors, Arranged Marriage, Brotherly Bonding, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Childhood Friends, Friendship, Gen, Mild Gore, Mythology References, No Incest, One-Sided Attraction, POV Alternating, Pre - Robert's Rebellion, R plus L may equal J, Revolution, Robert's Rebellion, War, i was going to write Ned straight but he's just too bi, only in how everything pretty much works out the same
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-09 17:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gay_as_fuck/pseuds/Gay_as_fuck
Summary: Eddard is born the grim second heir of Storm's End to Steffon and Cassana Baratheon. Robert is born to Rickard and Lyarra Stark with more wolf blood in his veins than even his older brother Brandon.An AU where everything changes and everything stays the same.





	Wolf's Fury and Stag's Blood

**Author's Note:**

> The Robert Stark and Ned Baratheon AU you never knew you always wanted.

"Here, 'A' for apple." Stannis carefully drew out the letter 'A' with his quill before handing it over to his little brother. Eddard's chubby hands reached around into a fist as he shakily copied the letter. While it was childish, Eddard had made a recognizable 'A'. The library at Storm’s End surrounded them, it was the place in the castle where Stannis felt the most at home so he had chosen it to teach his little brother. 

"Now 'B' for Baratheon, that's the name of our family." Stannis wrote the letter below his 'A' and handed the quill back to Eddard. Eddard attempted the 'B' but ran into a problem by making the first loop far too large, making a 'D' instead. 

"Try again, make small strokes." Stannis offered his advice as he attempted his best tutor voice. Eddard was set to start his schooling when he was four years of age, a date which was coming up soon. In response, Stannis was doing his best to give his little brother a head start. Eddard managed to make a better B this time though he made the first loop too small. He giggled at the pregnant letter, seemingly happy with himself. 

"The 'B's going to have a baby, just like mommy." Eddard declared to which Stannis stiffened. Everything was perfect as it was, Eddard was the best little brother he could ever have asked for. He had not asked for Eddard and until a year after he was born Stannis had not cared for his little brother at all but upon learning of the boy's reserved nature he had grown fond of his younger brother. Now his Mother was going to have another child, a kid who might cry and scream like some of the babies in town. He wanted nothing to do with them. 

"Time to try the next letter. 'C' for cat." Stannis took back the quill and wrote out the letter, it should be easier than B at least. Eddard watched him closely, eyes glued to the paper as every time before. He carefully took the quill and dipped it in ink before handing it to his younger brother. Eddard's 'C' was the best letter he'd managed thus far causing him to turn to look and smile at Stannis. Stannis attempted to smile back and let himself relax slightly. His smile fell on one side as an old man does so Eddard reached out and pushed the side up. Stannis pushed Eddard off with a shrug of his shoulder. 

"Alright, this is 'D' for duck." Stannis drew out the letter and handed the quill to Eddard who drew out a 'D' almost as well as Stannis had done. Eddard clapped his pudgy hands together, a smile still on his chubby cheeks. Stannis resisted the urge to reach out his hand to ruffle his hair. 

"Now, let me teach you E and R so you can spell your name." Eddard's eyes seemed to glow with excitement, his hands already grasping for the pen. Stannis held the pen away, a frown drawing on his lips. Eddard was still only three which meant was too eager. 

"Here's 'E', like for Eddard." In a few pen strokes, he had drawn out the letter. Eddard reached out again and Stannis held the quill back, batting Eddard's hand away with his free one. "Wait." He ordered as Eddard's face started to pinch up and redded in anger. "I'm going to teach you 'R'", Stannis covered quickly, the words stumbling out of his mouth. Eddard calmed down slightly and kept his eyes on the Pen as Stannis drew out 'R'.

"'R' for rain, now you try both". He handed the quill over to Eddard who made an alright 'E' and a shotty 'R'. For a moment Stannis considered making him write it out again but decided against it, he didn't want to risk upsetting Eddard again. Crying children were too loud and a hassle to deal with, he didn't want to ruin the quiet of the library. 

"Write what I tell you." Eddard put the quill on paper, the ink making a large dot. "Start with 'E'", Stannis pointed to the 'E' he had drawn on the paper which Eddard copied. "Now write 'D' twice", his voice softened slightly as Eddard did as he was told. "Now write an 'A'" Eddard made out his 'A' which Stannis had pointed to. His soft brow was screwed up in focus and lips pursed together as his father often did. His slight mop of dark hair shone slightly.

"'R' and then 'D'", Stannis finished spelling out the name while Eddard struggled to catch up. The 'R' was still messy but Eddard had spelled out his names, though all the letters were capital. Stannis resisted the urge to correct that, Eddard was still a child and he had written his name for the first time. This deserved something at least, his little brother had learned from him. 

"Good job Eddard, that's your name." When he smiled it was a real one, even on both sides and a rare side on his usually stoic face. Eddard smiled back and opened his tiny mouth to say, "Teach me 'Stannis' next."

\--- 

"Brandon! Slow Down!" Robert yelled as he tripped over his own feet chasing after his brother. Brandon was a length ahead, never rushing out of Robert's sight and still seemed impossible to catch. That did nothing to sway Robert's speed or intent as he steadied himself and kept up the chase. He pushed past a maid and skipped around a Septa. 

"Brandon!!" Robert shouted again yet his words were pushed back towards him by the icy Winterfell wind. If he heard Robert, Brandon did not slow or even respond. "Give it back!" The winding castle was more suited towards Brandon's longer legs and older mind yet Robert had his size. Despite being only 8 he was broad and had the strength to spare. If he were to catch his brother and fight him then they might have a chance. 

Brandon was forced to pause as he almost ran into the wall but quickly resumed his pace. Robert managed to turn a tad more smoothly and toppled right into Brandon. The pair fell to the floor in a pile of arms and legs. Not even bothering to question why Brandon had suddenly become so close Robert went in for the kill and grabbed his prize. Sitting on top of his brother Robert examined the item that had been stolen from him, a fine wood carving that his father had praised him for. It was a wolf's head with a fawn in its mouth. 

"Robert?" Someone's tiny voice asked drawing Robert's attention away from his victory. Brandon was fuming below him but his mouth was shut as he rubbed a bump on his head. The source of the voice was right in front of him, his little sister Lyanna staring at him curiously. More importantly, it was his little sister in his mother's arms. She glared down at the pair of brothers, her grip on the little girl tightening. 

"What do you think you're doing!" It wasn't a question, her voice was her usual hush-shout to which Robert grumbled and held out the carving as proof. "He stole my carving so I had to get it back." 

"Hey!" Brandon asserted from below him, pushing Robert off of his stomach. His mother pressed her lips together, "Hey is for horses Brandon." Brandon stood up and furrowed his brow. "I only took it because Robert ate all the tarts the cooks made for me." 

"She made them for us," Robert stressed the last word, holding his carving close to his chest now and eyeing Brandon with suspicion. "It's Brandon's fault he couldn't eat them fast enough."

"It doesn't matter who started what." Their mother asserted as she stared down the pair of boys. "If you do what I say your father doesn't have to hear about this." Robert lifted his head slightly, hope sprung to life in his chest. "You both need to spend the rest of the day in the library studying the history of the Westerosi houses. If you can't tell me the founders and current heads of each major house you won't get dinner tonight." Robert groaned, that sounded worse than a switch. 

"Robert!" His mother snapped causing Robert to quickly shut his mouth. The boys stood together waiting for their mother to say anything else. She simply raised her eyebrows and said: "Don't you two have books to read." She walked past the pair to continue on whatever task their antics had interrupted. Lyanna watched Robert and Brandon from over her mother's shoulder. 

Robert winked and smiled at Lyanna before running off to the library, Brandon hot on his heels. 

\---

"Ours Is The Fury." Steffon's voice echoed throughout the study as Eddard stared at his bloodied boots. "You have to learn this Eddard. You are my second son, a Baratheon heir. If anything were to happen to Stannis, Seven forbid, then you would be the heir to Storm's End."

"Ours Is The Fury." Eddard echoed, the words falling flat against the stone walls. The fire had run low leaving a chill in the room. 

"You can say it a thousand times but still you'll never understand. Have you never felt anger at those who harm you and the ones you love?" Eddard gulped and nodded. The incident that had upset his father still fresh in his mind. 

"When someone strikes, you must strike back. That is what gives a stag it's power." Steffon continued on, the words washing over his son. Eddard's eyes were still focused on his bloody boots. "I understand father," Eddard replied, his voice still soft and dull, not even daring to challenge authority.

"Then why did you just stand there?" Steel underlined his father's voice. "He is a servant boy. You had a right to fight back against him." Eddard closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to steady himself. Steffon stared down his son, his gaze icy on Eddard's back. 

"It was heavy," Eddard muttered despite himself and stiffened when his father ordered him to speak clearly. Eddard raised his head to look into his father's eyes. 

"The hunting dog was heavy, I couldn't move my feet." It was a lie and both of them knew it. Eddard was slightly slim but he was strong enough to kick a dead dog off of his boots. The boy had been even skinnier than Eddard and had none of the young Lord's training. Steffon squinted at his son who still stood his ground. He sighed and templed his hands in front of him. 

"In the Age of Heroes, there was a Warrior by the name of Durran." Steffon began drawing a confused sound from Eddard. Eddard opened his mouth and then closed it before trying again, attempting to make his tone as neutral as possible. 

"Forgive me father but why are you telling me the story of our house?" Steffon was not placated by his son's tone, he growled slightly and bit back. "Listen and you shall learn. Eddard bowed his head and listened to his father, almost imagining he wasn't in trouble. 

"Durran was a passionate man in love and war. For this, he won the love of Elenei, the daughter of the gods of wind and sea. He took her as his wife, and when they were married the gods howled so they tore Durran's humble keep down. If not for Elenei's protection he would have died that night so he swore war on the Gods. In the place of his destroyed home, he built another, strong enough that he believed the Gods could not challenge it. They destroyed it in a night. He refused to lose to the Gods, as long as he and his wife were still alive he would continue to fight. He built six keeps by the sea and still, the Gods broke them down. Each time a home fell more of his family and friends died until it was just him and his wife. He built his last keep, Storm's End, and nothing could shake it." 

Eddard wasn't sure what to say. He'd heard the story hundreds of times and usually with more care than this. Steffon stared down at him still, expecting something. Eddard kept his mouth shut and waited. 

"What will you do in the face of the storm which breaks down all you love. Will you stand there and let some servant boy slaughter your prized hunting dog on your feet? Will it be a larger beast next time or will that knife go for your gut? Will you just stand there and take it, bleed out at his feet when you could have fought back?" Eddard refused to shrink under his father's gaze. Neither of them said anything for a time, only Eddard resisting the full force of his father's attention. 

"Good." Steffon did not sound pleased but there was no longer the animosity he had once held. "Now go clean up, you smell rotten." Steffon waved him off which Eddard followed, leaving the room and scuffing some blood on the ground. Eddard walked away, unsure if he should feel victorious or ashamed. As he left he whispered his house words under his breath one more time.

"Ours Is The Fury". The next person who challenged him wouldn't be so lucky. 

\---

"Robert!" Lyanna rushed towards the gate, her eyes on her brother and the boar he had hefted over his shoulder. The squire behind him shifted his position, the boar's ass right on his face. Robert dropped his half, sending the poor boy falling to the floor. Robert rushed towards his sister and picked her up, spinning her around in his arms. 

"You were gone for so long!" Lyanna complained, going limp in her brother's arms as he lowered her down again. 

"I came back with something for you." He pointed to the boar with his thumb causing Lyanna to frown. Robert tossed her over his shoulder and carried her back towards Winterfell. 

"What's got you so angry," Robert asked though his tone was more jovial than actually concerned. Lyanna, who was struggling to escape his iron grip, mumbled something into his shoulder. 

"What was that?" He laughed and held her above his shoulder. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and turned away. Robert shook her until he had her laughing slightly. Six years old and she was already an active young girl who cared less for sowing than a mouse does for a hawk. 

"If you really want to get me something you'll take me with you next time." She complained as Robert set her down inside the castle. 

"I told you, Ser Clancy took me for my first hunt to prove myself as the second heir. You're going to marry off." He clapped her on the back, pushing her forward slightly. She grumbled and stepped on his foot, earning no reaction. 

"I mean, you're only four years older than me!" Lyanna stomped her foot while Robert let out a belly laugh. 

"I've missed you, little sister." He ruffled her hair and pulled her along towards the great hall. Brandon was waiting for him there, a book on sword styles resting in his lap. He looked up from the text and his face alighted at the sight of his brother. He stood quickly and raced across the room in a few long strides, the book left forgotten on the floor. 

"Robert!" He shouted just as Lyanna had and pulled his brother into a bear hug. Robert returned it, slapping his brother's back in manly friendship. "How was your first hunt? I hear you caught something!"

"A boar, it was a mighty beast but I bested it." Robert patted the hammer on his side as he uncoupled from his brother's embrace. Lyanna, for all her complaints, had taken a seat on the rug and was listening intently. Robert took a seat on the empty chair across from the seat Brandon had retaken. 

"Hunting is the best thing a Stark can do!" He declared and uncoupled his hammer from his belt quickly. "Since there are no longer any skinchangers the closest you can be to a wolf is to kill another animal. After weeks of tracking, I grew lonely with only the master at arms at my side. Even the wine was dull, but oh when we found. This boar was a mighty beast, it rushed at me and Ser Corey and we both jumped out of the way. I was to its left and it had managed to get its tusk stuck in a trunk. I knew what to do." Robert pulled his hammer up and swung it over Lyanna's head. She dodged down, the hammer swinging right were her head had been. Her 'hey' went unnoticed by her family. 

"I knew it was dead not when it stopped moving but when I heard the bones of its head crack. And then we had to carry it back." Brandon smiled at his little brother who had set his hammer down on the floor. Lyanna picked it up and examined the wolf designs on the metal. 

"You're a true Stark man now. The cooks should make your prize into a feast tonight." Lyanna traced her fingers over a half-finished carving of a wolf fighting a blank canvas. 

"You should have them put a boar here, your first real fight." She commented as she pointed to the empty space. Brandon smiled as he examined the spot, "She's right Robert, it'll be a fine design." 

"I carve these myself you know." Robert defended himself as he snatched the hammer back from his sister. He placed his thick fingers where her slim ones had been and it seemed almost impossible that he would have the grace to carve something so intricate. "You're right, a Boar would fit here nicely." 

\---

If Winterfell was a cold place full of ghosts the Eyrie was an empty place. Robert remembered something he had been told as a joke before departing to live with Jon Arryn, the Eyrie was a place so lacking of love there were not even ghosts there. Robert was not afraid of anything, and still, he felt his feet stumble slightly as he walked towards the entrance to the castle. 

The archers in the Vale of Arryn looked down on him and his party. Lord Arryn would be waiting for them in the castle, perhaps along with the other young lord he had promised to foster. He knew nothing of Eddard Baratheon, only his name and position. The boy was not on his mind, only the castle looming before him and his family's goodbye. Lyanna had cried and he had laughed in the face of her tears, quick to reassure her that they'd see one another again. Brandon had hugged him close and the wavering of his eyes went uncommented upon. His mother and father hand wished him well and told him to respect Lord Arryn and when he became lost to never forget where his heart lay. 

He hadn't bothered to tell him that his heart did not lay in Winterfell. He had outgrown it, even now at 12 the castle he called home seemed completely known to him and completely bored. He had hoped the Eyrie would be a change of pace and now he had been proven wrong. He let out a sigh and continued towards the gate. The knights standing guard waved him past once he had handed a scroll of identification with his lord father's seal and signature. It seemed unnecessary considering his fine clothes patterned with silver wolves. 

He continued into the castle, passing more guards while he walked the stairs. The more he saw of the place the less impressed he was.

Still, Robert was going to make the most of his time away from home. Perhaps the Baratheon boy he was going to stay with would be interesting. His father always claimed to have forged bonds when he was fostered in Dorne but he was uncertain of that. The Baratheons were a house in the Stormlands, that of course, he knew. The current head was one Steffon Baratheon. Stannis was the heir, and Eddard was the Baratheon he would have a chance to meet. 

He knew nothing of the boy and he was already judging. What sort of name was Eddard anyways? For Robert, it brought to mind the image of a feckless minor lord clambering for a higher position or some ball-less Maester content to spend his days transcribing the ancient texts and judging the rest of the realm for enjoying life.

The tall, gaunt man who seemed older than he was could only have been Jon Arryn. He greeted Robert in his great hall, dressed in robes of white, blue, and grey. Robert could easily beat him in a fight, a thought which immediately caused the Stark to discount Lord Arryn immediately. Robert threw on a huge smile and shook Lord Arryn's hand.

"Lord Arryn, It's good to finally meet you." Robert did his best to imitate the actions of Brandon. Jon Arryn shook Robert's hand, his bony fingers wrapping around a pair of smaller meaty ones. He smiled down at Robert, who was tall enough to seem older than he was but still only ten years old.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you Robert Stark, I am looking forward to our time together. The servants will bring up your belongings. In the meantime I have someone I'd like you to meet." He motioned for Robert to follow him, so he did. The pair walked further into the castle only to stop at a large room focused around a fireplace. Someone was sitting in one of the chairs facing the fire, book in hand.

"Eddard", Lord Arryn called out causing the stranger's form to startle. "I'd like you to come to say hello to Robert Stark, he'll be staying with me while you do." Eddard put down his book and stood up to his full height, shorter than Robert but not insignificantly so. He made his way to the pair and reached out a hand for Robert to take. He was a sullen boy, with black hair and eyes. He wore the sigils of House Baratheon, a golden stag, still, the colors were muted. He was mostly in the blacks of his house, with accents of sparkling gold, perhaps the real thing.

"Hello, You must be Robert Stark." Eddard greeted, his voice just as restrained as his posture. Robert shook his hand vigorously, drawing a slightly confused expression from the boy. His cheeks colored quickly as he suddenly became unbalanced at only a taste of Robert's personality. Robert smiled, he was going to like this Baratheon, or at least like teasing him. 

He could see their whole future together, beating Eddard at spars and then taking food off of his plate. Playing running games and holding his books high above his head in jest. Telling racy stories which would only make the reserved little lord blush more. It would be like he had never left Winterfell. The only problem with his plan was the name, it was hard to roughhouse with a boy named Eddard. 

"Of course! And you must be Ned." The boy frowned and pulled his hand away, his dower mask pulled tight around his face. 

"Don't call me that." Ned's voice was hard with his arms pressed close to his sides. Robert cocked his had to one side and thought, 'rude'.

\---

Dinner with Robert Stark and Lord Arryn was different than meals back home in Storm's End, or at least that was what Eddard had hoped for meals to be. Instead, he sat listening to Robert tell tales of his hunts and Lord Arryn asked any questions which came to mind. Robert would have fit in with his father who loved nothing more than a good hunt, aside from his family of course. Lord Arryn took the place of Stannis, though he smiled more, a steady observer. Rowena Arryn was far stiffer than his mother had ever been but they had the same sense of deserved pride. The only difference was that there was no Renly to cry and laugh through the lapse in conversation.

The easy air of home also lacked their meal. Robert boasted Lord Arryn questioned, Rowena responded, and Eddard stared down at his plate. He could say something but there was no reason to. He would just eat his meal in peace, withstand what would surely be a torturous year, and return to Storm's End. 

"Ned!" Robert startled Eddard with his shout, "Get your head out of your greens and listen!" Eddard turned only to get a slap on the back, causing him to almost choke on his mouthful of pork. He coughed slightly and glared at Robert who didn't seem phased. 

"Come on, don't be like that Ned!" Robert's tone was jeering, something he had never heard from a brother before. Eddard growled and pushed Robert as hard as he could. The larger boy was strong enough to stay seated, only laughing as Eddard kept pushing. Robert's white-fingered grip on the table kept him centered as he kicked at Eddard's feet which the smaller boy stomped on. This enraged Robert and his expression changed from playful to pissed off. He pushed himself forward which toppled Eddard to the ground.

"BOYS!" Lord Arryn shouted as he pulled Robert off of Eddard. Fear prickled down Eddard's spine for a moment, it was his second day with Lord Arryn and he had already fallen out of the man's good graces. Robert struggling in Arryn's double-handed grip was at least a reminder that Eddard wouldn't be in trouble alone. The fear left him quickly, however, if he had offended anyone he had done it in defense. The Stark heir was different, he was a barbarian, a wolf pretending to be a man. Stags held their heads high and struck back when it was called for, they fought back sure and strong. 

"You will NEVER do that again here, do you understand me, boys!" Lord Arryn wasn't asking a question, or at least he wasn't asking a question with more than one answer. Eddard responded with a hushed yes as Robert stopped struggling and muttered the same. Lord Arryn pulled Robert onto his feet and Rowena Arryn pulled Ned up by his hair, he did his best not to complain as it was done. They were both pushed in opposite directions, shuffling their feet in resignation. 

"You will not do that again here or anywhere." Rowena's voice was different than her husbands, she wasn't shouting or pointing. Anger seethed from her words and Eddard understood that if he so much as looked at Robert wrong the next day he'd be in trouble for the rest of his life. He bit his tongue and sat down on his bed as the door was slammed and locked with only a "Think about what you've done" spat at him. 

Eddard had rarely been in such deep trouble before, so naturally, he blamed Robert. Robert had been the one to harass him, Robert was an ass, Robert was going to be the one who would make his life here hell. He was torn between crying, sighing, or punching the wall. Instead, he curled onto his bed and tried his best to sleep. He would be home soon, just a year until he'd see his family again. 

\---

Robert was wandering the Eyrie looking for an adventure when he heard someone crying. It intrigued him and stopped him mid-step in the middle of some long-abandoned hallway. The palace was mostly empty which made the presence of someone new extremely exciting. Someone crying meant something had happened, heartbreak or death or excitement, the kind of problem that needed a Stark of Winterfell to deal with. 

He did his best to locate the origin of the crying, a room with a jammed shut door. He tried the lock, only to find that it refused to budge so he tried the wood with his hand, it bent slightly from disrepair and rot. His face split into a smile as he backed up and prepared himself before running shoulder first into the door. There was a maiden for him to save! The door banged open with a pop and a snap leaving Robert to crash to the floor. The crying had suddenly stopped, and for what Robert did not know.

He did not find the young maiden he had hope for. Instead, in some dusty back room, he found Ned. The Baratheon was a mess, his robes rumpled and his tears mixing with snot. He had tight fists in his hair but his eyes had settled on Robert. They both paused for a moment, unsure of what to do with the situation. Ned responded first, horror dawning on his face as he turned away and started to cry again, though this time it was far more restrained. 

The boy's crying made Robert uncomfortable, so he stood up and glanced at the door. He could leave and pretend none of this had happened, but that wouldn't work out well. Whatever was bothering Ned now was probably what made him so unwilling to mess around with Robert, if he solved the problem things could be just like they were back in Winterfell. 

Robert took a few tentative steps over to the bed where Ned was sitting. He sat down next to Ned in the space the boy wasn't looking at, the bed sinking underneath them. He reached out a hand and put it on Ned's shoulder, causing the boy to startle.

"What's wrong?" Robert tried, his words were unsure but in no way hesitant. Ned didn't respond, he just tried half-heartedly to push Robert away. Robert didn't leave, if anything he became more determined to help. Ned, despite how boring he was, wasn't a bad person and didn't deserve to cry like this. 

"It's stupid." Ned said eventually, his eyes drying as he raised one arm up to wipe at his snotty nose, "I just miss home." Robert pursed his lips together, looking for the right words to say. The wrong thing and Ned would just start crying again.

"They aren't dead." Is what Robert settled, something that made Ned stiffen and quicken his breath. Clearly, this had been the wrong choice. 

"What if they are! What if they die! I won't be there with them!" Ned's left fist was still in his hair as he tightened his grip in a way that had to hurt. Robert knew at least that he should start to backtrack. 

"Hey! Hey! they're your parents, they wouldn't let themselves die without you." Robert's tone was begging even though he wasn't asking anything, his hand still warm on Ned's shoulder. 

"How are you sure?" Ned asked tentatively, though he had calmed down slightly. He turned to Robert as he asked, hoping for reassurance. Robert gave him his brightest and most securing smile. 

"They're your family, and your parents won't let themselves die while you're still alive. You fight tooth and nail to hang on, to stay together-" Ned's eyes watered again so Robert quickly added in "even if you aren't together right now. So you've got to stay strong and try to make the most of it while you're here with me." A shaky smile dawned on Ned's lips. 

"Thank you, Robert." He sounded sincere, if unusual for Ned to say to him. It was the first honestly kind thing Ned had said to him in their time together. Robert found himself smiling in earnest instead of for comfort. 

"Of course, Ned, now you never have to cry again." Or at least Robert hoped this meant Ned would never have to cry again. The smile fell from Ned's face, replaced by a stiff line and a furrowed brow.

"Why?" Was all he asked. He didn't need to specify what he was saying, Robert already knew that well enough. Only a few weeks together and he could already read Ned better than Brandon or Lyanna. Ned was asking "Why are you doing this?", "How do you know what to say?", "What does this all mean?", but most importantly, "Why do you call me Ned?"

"Because," Robert replied, and he hoped Ned could understand the words he couldn't bring himself to say. "Because I want things to be like back at Winterfell", "Because Eddard isn't a very fun name", "Because you're my friend, despite that stick up your butt." 

"Okay," Ned said because it was answer enough. 

\---

Ned found Stannis in the Library, exactly where he had expected to find his brother. Stannis was halfway through a book, so engrossed that he didn't even look up when Ned entered the room. His brother seemed bored, but Ned knew that was anything but the case. He smiled to himself as he walked towards one of the bookshelves next to Stannis as if he was just a handmaid borrowing a book. 

Stannis kept his eyes on the page as Ned paused by the bookcase, running his fingers along the backs but carefully not humming to himself. He needed to convince his brother's mind that he wasn't Ned, but someone to whom no attention must be spared. If Stannis noticed, he didn't turn his eyes from the page. So Stannis clearly didn't notice. Ned stepped forward and made his way lazily over to the bookshelf behind his brother. 

Ned waited only a moment before turning around and yelling "Hey!" as loud as he could into Stannis' ear. He couldn't help but snicker slightly when Stannis startled, the book falling out of his hands and his usually expressionless face full of horror. He regained his composure quickly as he bent down to pick up the book. Only when it was safely on the table did he turn around to Ned. 

"I'm glad your back." He said with a small smile and Ned beamed. It was the most affection he had gotten out of Stannis since he had left for the Eyrie almost a year ago. Now he was home for a month and could spend the days how he wished. One of his wishes was spending time with his stable, quiet older brother instead of Robert. Ned quickly sat down on the floor next to Stannis, picking a book off the pile Stannis had clearly set up. 

"How were you?" Stannis asked as he picked his book back up. It was a little tradition of theirs, they would talk and then when there wasn't anything else to say they would read. Ned thumbed over the embossed little to the book in his hands, "Notes on the Prominence of the Great Houses of the Reach." 

"Good. I'm happy to be back." Ned replied, a smile already on his face. This was exactly what he had missed, comfortable quiet. 

"Of course, you've been missed. How was Lord Arryn?" Stannis was frank as always but showed more compassion than usual. 

"Stern, but kind. He reminded me of you." Stannis raised an eyebrow at that but Ned refused to go back on his word. 

"What about the other boy being fostered there?" Stannis asked as he settled back in his chair. He had reclaimed his book from the table and was trying to find his page again. "He was a Northman if I'm correct." 

"Yes," Ned was eager to reply. "Robert Stark, he was-" how could he describe Robert in just a few words? Robert was mean and proud but also kinder than anyone gave him credit for. He acted as though he knew the ways of the world but showed his hand all to often, he knew less of the world of adults than Ned. Ned gave a hum of thought and settled on, "Loud." 

"He was the one who taught you that prank then?" Disapproval radiated from Stannis' voice causing Ned to duck his head. 

"He's not all bad, he's just not like us. He's a Stark, they have wolf's blood". Stannis seemed to have found his page and began to read, ignoring Ned's defense of his friend until Ned said, "He calls me Ned."

"Ned is a Northman's name, you a Lord of the Stormlands. You are Eddard of House Baratheon, you are a stag, don't forget that." Ned opened up his book in an attempt to force himself to drop the subject. He was a stag, he was different than Robert, but that didn't mean they didn't belong together.

\---

The bear hug Robert had been enveloped in would have crushed Ned. That was his first thought as his older brother and younger sister tried to crush his chest in with their love. It was the reunion he had hoped for, as much as Ned was a good friend and Lord Arryn a good mentor he had missed this. 

"You're home!" Lyanna all but cooed as she pressed her cheek up against his. Brandon lay his head on Roberts, a mess of dark brown hair right below his chin. Robert pulled his siblings in further. 

"Tell us all about it!" Brandon demanded as the trio uncoupled and made their way towards their father's private study, the best place for telling stories by the fireplace. They settled in their usual places, Robert and Brandon in the chairs and Lyanna laying on the floor. Just a few years ago Robert had come back from his first hunt and recounted the tale of his adventure. Now it was his turn to tell of something that not even his older brother had experienced. 

"How was the Eyrie?" Lyanna asked, laying on her stomach with her head in her hands. Robert smiled down at her and began to tell his story. 

"Still. They say that winds whip the Vale but the castle is different. Everything is still, so old that there aren't even ghosts." Robert did his best to replicate the bards his father sometimes invited into the castle. He had Lyanna's full attention, she was rapt up in his tale. Brandon was smiling his big brother smile, the one that meant he thought Robert was exaggerating but loved him all the more for it. 

"Did you explore?" Lyanna asked, though she already knew the answer. Of course, Robert had gone exploring, it was just who he was.

"When Jon Arryn wasn't looking." Speaking of Lord Arryn by his first name felt wrong on Robert's tongue, but anything to impress his siblings. He was on a first name basis with the Lord of the Vale. Brandon was still smiling that same smile, which meant Robert had to up his game a little. He considered what to boast about before Brandon came up with the idea for him. 

"Wasn't there another boy there?" Brandon asked, giving Robert and chance to brag about his new friend. 

"Yes, his name was Eddard Baratheon, a southern lord," Robert explained, earning a moment of silence as Brandon thought of something.

"That's the predominant house in the Stormlands right? Not exactly very southern." Robert made a face at his brother's comment, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Enough about that!" Lyanna butt in clearly bored with this line of questioning. "I don't care what house he's from, what is he like?" Robert opened his mouth to say something but was suddenly at a loss for words. What could he possibly say about Ned? That he was rude and cold but somehow his heart was warm underneath. That he was equal parts eager and restrained.

"Quiet," Was what Robert settled on. Lyanna gave a disappointed grumble at his words, prompting a confused look from Robert. 

"So he's a pushover." She clarified, already weighing in on the topic of Ned with only one word of explanation. 

"He's not a pushover. He's a stag, they don't attack right away, they push back." Brandon made a soft hum as he thought before making himself known in the conversation again. 

"He might make a good husband for you Lyanna, the Baratheons are a good house." Brandon was suddenly the scholar, making marriage arrangements based on houses he had asked about not a minute ago. Robert let out a laugh as Lyanna became angry. 

"Hey! I'm not getting married to some storm battered pushover!" She declared as she sat up, pounding a fist on her chest. 

They fell into a comfortable lull of conversation, Robert teasing Lyanna as much as possible to make up for all the days he had been away. In the back of his mind thoughts of Ned still lingered on. Ned wouldn't fit in here, but that didn't change anything. Just because Ned would never fit in at Winterfell didn't mean he and Robert didn't fit well together. 

\---

Robert stumbled back to the Eyrie drunk and smelling of cheap perfume. The guards knew to expect him, so on his long walk home, he wasn't shot at. Ned was waiting for him as always. Ned knew what his friend had been doing, the guards knew, and despite his best efforts to stop it, Lord Arryn knew as well. 

Robert was 15, old enough to want women and wine more than anything else in the world. Ned understood to a point and did his best not to judge his friend when he came home. He gave him water to drink and in the morning when Robert's head hurt like hell didn't go easy on him in practice. Robert would whine and gripe but the cycle would continue. It wasn't every night, not even once a week, but it was enough for Ned to know what to expect. 

Ned knew Ned understood, and still, it made him lonely. It was a useless feeling, Robert wasn't as close to anyone outside of his family as he was to Ned. Sometimes he would even remark to Ned he was his brother. He did that then, laying his head on Ned's shoulder. 

"Thank you, brother." Robert stumbled slightly, keeping himself upright only with Ned's help, "You always know right when I'll need you." 

"That's why I'm here," Ned replied as he led Robert down mostly deserted halls. If they ran into a handmaid, as they sometimes did on these nightly journeys, she wouldn't say anything. There were no rumors to tell, everyone already knew. 

"You make a-" Robert hiccuped, drawing a slight cringe out of Ned who had once been vomited on. "A fine steed," he finished with a hard pat to Ned's thigh. Ned's face went red though it was impossible to tell in the low light. 

"It's rather unconventional," Ned paused for a moment under the strain of Robert adjusting himself, "to ride a stag as a steed." Robert smiled a big, slightly loopy smile and Ned's heart found itself sinking for a reason he couldn't understand. 

"Well, a wolf riding a stag? That would produce some interesting pups!" Robert declared as Ned ignored his sudden feminization in the metaphor. Robert was heavy against his friend's side as they turned another corner. The smell of his breath was rancid and exciting all at once as if it had been Ned out at night instead of Robert. That was another strange aspect of these nights, Robert's drunken state somehow became Ned's. 

They were a haze, with Robert being less careful than usual. He would lean and hold onto Ned, his sink burning in a way that made Ned torn between embracing it or drawing away. Each night he would dream that he would awake with burn marks where Robert's cheek had touched him and the castle would be alive with gossip. His lips would burn then, every part of him would be raw and itching in those dreams.

It is on these nights, dark and lovely, that he never wants the sun to rise. Ned understands, he dreams, and he wants. He seeks refuge between words when it is just Robert's wine-soaked breath on his neck. Robert always ruins it, his words break the air when he speaks of the women.

"She was firm Ned, you don't get that too often around here. It's always fat or bony, never firm!" He declares, reaching one hand towards his chest to imitate grabbing his own breasts. If Ned were another man he might wish to be the women Robert speaks of, but he can't. He can not love Robert in a way that is not his own, and Robert will never love him as more than a brother. 

Ned will live with that, he will hold his hands back in the morning, and he will pretend to love the women Robert does. When asked he will say he does not need what Robert needs, that he does not want what Robert wants. He will pretend not to be lonely. 

\---

At the back of his mind, Robert knew he should be sad. More than sad, his heart should be breaking in his chest. His brother was dead, his father was dead, and his sister was gone. His life had been torn apart, and if the mad king had his way Robert would be torn limb from limb. 

He cried, the tears burning tracks down his face, but he wasn't sad. He was angry. He loved them, they loved him, and anyone who dared to rip that apart deserved nothing. The mad king should have his throat torn out, his guts strewn across the throne room. If he still had a scrap of love or mercy in his rotten soul Robert would have dreamt of beating his family to death in front of him. 

He didn't say any of this to Lord Arryn or Ned, both waiting hesitantly by his side as he read the letter. Ned's hand wavered before he set it on Robert's wrist, only to have the kind gesture thrown off. Robert tore the paper into shreds and wished he could do it thousands of times more. He wanted the king dead, Rhaegar dead, and to burn the Seven Kingdoms to the ground.

Lord Arryn said something to him but the rage howling inside of Robert blocked it out. He could only hear a wolf in his ears when he left the castle for the training grounds. He pulled out his hammer and tried to put the force of his grief into a single stroke, he failed but he still broke a training dummy into wooden splinters. He beat further at the stand until there wasn't a piece large enough for his hammer to ruin. 

He was forced to take a breath and look for something else to break. As he moved to swing he stopped mid-motion. The design on his hammer froze him harder than the winds of winter. A wolf fighting a boar, a design Brandon and Lyanna had advised him to make. Rage swelled once again, more powerful than anything he'd ever felt. It was as if the emotion would tear his bones from his body with the force of it. For one shimmering moment, he was sure that his body will burst apart and put an end to his vengeance right there.

It passed just as quickly as it came. He collapsed to the ground, head bowed and tears flowing once more. The wolf in him howled, the wind in his ears swirled as vicious as in the land of always winter. His whole body taken by feral instinct, to weep and die and ruin the world so that no one else could have it. 

Robert did none of those things. He simply sat uselessly in the dirt and cried until he couldn't anymore. When he heard footsteps he didn't even look up. He knew who it was, Lord Arryn's steps were far lighter than Ned's.

"Will you turn me in?" When Robert asked his voice is raw from something he doesn't remember screaming. 

"No." Lord Arryn responded as he stood just behind Robert. He could move forward and place a hand on Robert's shoulder to guide him, but he didn't. His father would have looked him in the eyes and helped him stand but tell him to keep standing. Brandon would have cheered him on, Lyanna would have looked to him for guidance an offer he could never refuse. Lord Arryn just stood there and waited. 

"I'm Lord of the North now, my troops will fight for me." Robert was sure of that. Manderly, Hornwood, Karstark, Glover, Mormont, Cerwyn, all of them would raise their banners for him. 

"I've already raised my banners in rebellion." Lord Arryn said, who still stood just behind him. Robert loved his guardian more at that moment than he ever would, despite that part of his body begged to slaughter Lord Arryn with his excess rage.

"Good. We are going to war. Ned will raise his banners and I'll find him some high lord's daughter to marry. Better him than me." Robert pulled himself out of the dirt and dusted himself off. War was not easy but it was simple, you fight until you die or you win. He would find himself an army and kill every last dragon, destroy a three-hundred-year-old legacy or die trying.

\---

The first time Ned Stark saw Catelyn Tully was when her father walked her down the aisle to meet him. He had always assumed that he would be married in Storm's End with shipbreaker bay as his backdrop. Everyone would be dressed in yellows, blacks, greys, and golds. Stannis would smile as big and wide as his lips would allow him, his father would unabashedly say he was proud of every part of Ned. His new wife, whoever that would be, would aid him and in turn, he would offer his attention to whatever she needed. Where ever he would go, she would travel on horseback by his side. The intimate chill of those nights in the Eyrie gone from his mind forever. 

He was wed with only a light breeze at his back to a woman he would be leaving behind. Riverrun was a beautiful place to be married, Ned knew that at least. The waters sang to his side, a chorus of laughter instead of the steady beat of the ocean against the rocks. His bride was radiant, if foreign to him. Her red hair tied right around her head, flowers in her hair. When he laid eyes on her it took all of his might to push the doors of his heart open.

He wanted to love her. If by the force of his own will he could stop loving Robert and fall for her he would have there and then. He couldn't, not even when she was a breath away from him, still and certain. She was perfect for him, he could tell that just by the way she carried herself. Her every step radiated confidence, she completely understood her place in the world. She was the oldest daughter of a powerful house being married to the second son of a powerful house. 

More than that, she was being married to a rebel. There should have been some hesitancy in her voice when she declared that she loved him. Her voice was soft as mud on a river bed, sure as the stones of Storm's End. Under the light of the Seven he took his dark cloak from his own shoulders and draped it over hers. The Baratheon stag faced outwards towards the castle of Riverrun, a challenge towards the Tully flag and the bones at their base. The old kings of the river had fallen to the rule of the Ironborn, who had then fallen to the dragon kings. 

Now, there was the stag and the wolf who would take the Riverlands and the rest of Westeros along with it. If they toppled the empire then Ned would control it all, the ice wastes to the blinding deserts. He almost choked on his own fear, the Maester's words falling away into the river's song. He was going to have to be king, it hit him only then. All of Westeros would have to bow to him, he had the dragon's blood in his veins. 

His new wife must have noticed his distress since she reached her hand out to grab his hand and steady him. He should have been the one comforting her then, he was the stranger she was being married off to who might never return. If the rebellion was a lost cause she would never live happily, they would probably take her head after they took his. His rebellion- No, it was Robert's Rebellion, it would always be Robert's. 

Leaves fell over his head, catching on the crown of branches they had laid on him. He was going to be king, she would be his queen, and as daunting as it all was, he owned her his love. The river flowed, the birds chirped, and spring was coming. He squeezed her hand back, and for a moment all was well. 

\---

It was a beautiful sight. Rhaegar dead at his feet, gore seeping out of the cracks and distortions in his armor. It was made all the more glorious by the fact it had been Robert who killed him. The force of his hammer had flattened his dark plate, cracks splitting across the stiff metal. For a dragon prince, he was all human, flesh split and blood flowing. Pieces of his body pushed through the cracks with the force of the blow. 

Rubies mixed with blood swirled away from his body. It was a perfect moment, finally, Robert had his revenge. This man had taken his sister from him, for all he knew Lyanna was already dead, her body rotting away in some nameless shithole of a town. He wouldn't allow anyone to give Rhaegar a funeral, he knew that for sure. The prince would rot here in the water, his bones carried to unknown places by the river and left to sink down to the mud. 

Robert was content to die right there. He already had a wound to his leg which pulsed and burned with agony, his head swam with the noises of battle. The aroma of blood, shit, and sweat coated everything. He was king, a wolf who had killed a dragon, a second son who had toppled a dynasty. He had reached his peak, nothing would be better than the sight of his enemies disfigured corpse splayed out on the ground in front of him. It was perfect. 

Time did not stop. The battle raged on outside of his moment, just a second of glory before another warrior struck at him. He blocked the blow with ease while the royal forces began to fracture and desert. He had taken down the prince and the royal army, the king was sure to follow. Robert did not know it then, maybe he would never know it, but his life would never rise above the waters of the trident. He will never achieve more than that, covered in mud, shit, and blood. 

Whatever the dragon prince's last words were, Robert didn't care. If his bloodied lips parted only for a moment to mutter Lyanna's name Robert did not hear. He would have cared, if he had heard it, he would have battered Rhaegar's chest flat as the plate metal itself. The corpse that he would let rot in the stream would be so unrecognizable no one would have bothered to check for rubies. 

And it would not have made his victory any sweeter. 

\---

Ned Baratheon arrived to find King's Landing screaming. The whole city, screaming and bleeding as the Lannister forces tore soldiers limb from limb. For all Tywin Lannister was a coward his men were lions, that was true.

Smoke rose above the city, swirling into a strangely perfect mid morning sky. Ned stopped his horse at the gate, hesitating before entering. The host of Lannister men waiting outside the city told him enough about what was going on. They did not bother to stop him, one look at his banners and they stood aside, letting his horse carry him through the winding streets. His men rode behind him, ever at the ready for loyalists who might take the opportunity to kill the man who had a claim to the throne. No one tried anything. 

It became painfully apparent that King's Landing was devoid of fighting men. No, that wasn't true, there were soldiers in the city being slaughtered by the Lannister forces. Ned knew that there were no rules to war, no way to kill fairly, but a trained ear could pick out the cries of women and children. They were plenty, filling the air with more screams than even on the battlefield. This was the way of war, he knew that, and still, it did not sit right with him. 

His horse finally came to a skidding stop in front of the Red Keep. It towered high above him, covering in the red and black Targaryen banners. This was the castle of the king, the one place left where his power was absolute. He dismounted with the rest of his guard following his lead. He aided his men in unloading a battering ram, his hands tight against one of the hand holds. They moved like a wave, pulling back before slamming hard against the doors. 

Wind and water echoed in his head as they kept up the motion, the doors giving way a little more each time. This was the great task of the Gods of wind and sea from the age of heroes. They, who had wrecked six castles and killed everyone inside. The Storm Kings had been true kings, who could withstand the Gods themselves. He was of the same blood as Durran Godsgrief. He was a Baratheon, a stag, and for all the ways the dragons had attacked him he had struck back twice as hard. 

The wood splintered, the door collapsed, the winds in his mind battered and blew, and the castle still stood. 

Ned rushed forward, his men hot on his heels. The Mad King was waiting for him and for the spirit of Robert's revenge he carried with him. His men forced the second door open with a shout, the metal used to reinforce it slammed onto the stone with a bang. He had expected to find the Mad King upon his great throne, laughter already echoing in his ears. Instead, he found a finely dressed corpse, a bloody hole in its back. 

A Kingsguard stood by him with a bloody blade and stiff as the man he had just killed. Ned set his jaw and furrowed his brow, a guard who killed his own king. He had chosen himself over the realm, perhaps he thought he would be the king. Ned took a step closer, a shock of golden blond hair peeked out from the helmet, and suddenly it all made more sense. 

The Kings Guard standing in front of him was Jamie Lannister, son of Tywin Lannister, and now a kingslayer. Eddard considered for a moment drawing his sword, his hand already tight on the hilt. He did not draw it but kept his hold firm, Jamie was watching him, sword pointed at Ned's neck but he stood far enough away from the storm lord that Ned would have time to react. He took deliberately slow steps towards the body, eyes never leaving the kings guard until he reached the corpse. With a kick of his foot the surprisingly light body as pushed onto its side, making itself known as the Mad King. There was still a wild look in his eyes. 

"Where is your father?" Ned asked after a moment, tearing his eyes away from the body. Jamie opened his mouth hesitantly, his voice coming out clear and cold. 

"He's in the Tower of the Hand." Robert would have laughed, a sick smile twisting its way onto his lips. Of course, Tywin had gone to the tower he had called home for so long as he fought against the king he had loyally served. 

"Lead the way," Ned ordered and Jamie complied. He sheathed his sword and began to walk past the Iron Throne. Ned spared it only a glance, the place on high he was expected to rule from. He knew it would bleed him dry. He and his men followed Jamie through the castle corridors. There was no one else, the grand structure had been emptied out completely. Perhaps they had run as the Lannister army entered the city, or maybe they were being slaughtered that very moment. The stone muffled the screams from the city, leaving Ned in silence. 

Tywin was at his desk when the entered, Lannister guards flanking him. The Mountain stood right behind him, his shadow falling on the Warden of the West. Tywin was serious, but he was not grim. He was exactly as Ned remembered him from his trip to the capital as a child, full of destaining and with the air around him of having much more important matters to attend to. 

"Lord Baratheon, it seems you know the King is dead." Tywin sounded almost bored by the statement as if it was just an unsavory fact of everyday life.

"Of course, your son killed him." Ned stared down Tywin, suddenly unsure of the man's motivations. Tywin's son had killed the king and it was general knowledge that the reign of prosperity under the Mad King had come from his hand. Tywin should be trying to take the Iron Throne yet he had set himself up in the Hand's chambers. Ned tightened his grip on his sword. 

"I suppose that makes you King Baratheon then." Tywin made no move to bow or show respect. Tywin raised his right hand and motioned for The Mountain to step forward as Ned resisted the urge to step back. The Mountain did not have his sword in his hands, just something covered in Lannister red. He placed the bundles on the desk in front of Tywin, some of the dye had seeped out onto the table. 

But no, that wasn't dyed. Blood was seeping through the bundles, as deformed as they were Ned could make them out as children. If the color had been yellow he might have mistaken them for Renly as a child. Ned could not withhold the growl that forced its way out of his throat. He did not need to be told that the bodies of Prince Rhaegar's children had been placed in front of him. 

"The heirs have been dealt with, and I'm sure you'll appreciate that I've spared you the sight."

"They're children" Was all Ned could think to say. He held is tongue back when he considered saying "They were children." Tywin did not smile at Ned's reaction yet it was clear he was amused. 

"Of course, they're a threat to your rule. The queen is dead as well. You're the last person alive with enough dragon blood to have a claim, excluding your brothers of course." Tywin had handed him the kingdom on a silver platter. Ned simply stared at the bundles of bodies feeling sick. He had dreamed of destroying the dragons but slaughtering children? This was the last harsh reality of Robert's war that he had to face. 

These children were always going to have to die for their cause. Ned's eyes stung and his throat felt as if someone had strangled him. He would not let himself cry, instead, he held firm. 

"Enough of this," He cut off Tywin who shot him a rather indignant glare. He needed to get out of the room, but before that, he had to show that he as not running away. He was cutting of Tywin's ambition. "I will stand for no more of this. You and your kingslayer son have no honor. Lord Stark will arrive within the day and put your groveling to rest." Ned finally allowed himself to turn away. He left Tywin sitting at the desk, his son at his side, rage boiling on his brow. His men followed him silently as a few tears leaked from his eyes despite his best efforts. 

Eddard "The King's Grief" Baratheon had earned his name.

\---

Robert found Ned in the King’s quarters scratching away at something with a quill. The Storm Lord, or rather the soon to be Storm King, had a frown etched into his face. Robert made his way over to his friend’s side, Ned had yet to notice him or at least he had not bothered to look up or say anything. 

“What are you doing?” Robert asked, leaning over to see Ned’s page. It was covered in rather childish drawings. The drawings, which looked like dogs with spiked ears, were clearly Ned’s attempt to draw the Baratheon sigil. 

They sent Robert into a frenzy of laughter, the first he had after a long war. Robert’s attention was drawn to the floor as he just about doubled over in laughter. The sounds came rushing out of him, overwhelming him until he could barely breathe. He managed to control himself slightly and pulled himself up to see Ned, stiff as a board and his face flushed red. 

Robert broke down laughing again, forced to plant his hand on his knee for support. The laughter subsided and he was able to draw himself back up to his full height with only a chuckle. Ned was still red with embarrassment but the shade on his cheeks had dulled. He was frowning, some of his seriousness spreading to Robert. 

Robert examined Ned’s designs again, willing himself to see the odd dogs as stags. They were attempts at the classic Baratheon stag with a crown. Two designs had been draw multiple times, one with the crown atop the stag’s head and the other with the crown around its neck. 

“What is this Ned?” Robert asked as he pointed to the stag with the crown around its neck. “The poor thing looks like it’s been hung.” Any humor in his voice was nullified by Ned’s expression and heavy sigh. 

“Is it that obvious?” Ned sounded exhausted, his pleading expression matched the dark circles under his eyes perfectly. 

“Only because I know you.” Robert offered in a tone made soft for Ned and Ned alone. Ned gave a small smile in return, worn down though it was. He reached out tentatively to place a hand on Ned’s shoulder.

“It’s not hanging, it’s chained,” Ned spoke up after a moment of silence which he took to collect himself. “A king should not be allowed freedom or happiness before that of his people.” Robert let out a scoff at his friend’s conclusion. 

“A king gets to do whatever he wants. A wolf is king of the winter, a stag is king of the field, and both are free to run wild as they please. The dragons did what they wanted for years.” Anger soaked his attempt at advice. 

“Perhaps you’d make a better king than me.” What Ned had meant at as jest fell flat with the pure force of his longing. Robert’s dear friend had betrayed himself, need bleeding from it. At that moment Robert knew one thing, becoming king would kill Ned. 

He would be a good king, who cared deeply for his people, but he would only reign for a short time. His rare smiles and soft laughter would linger on only in Robert’s memory, who would survive years on after his friend. Robert would be alone, surely and finally, with only the cold halls of Winterfell to call home. 

“This is going to kill you, Ned.” Robert’s frankness failed to startle Ned, only causing his eyes to widen slightly. “You might not know it but that crown will hang you in five years.” Ned had nothing to say in response, he only hung his head and used a hand to shield his eyes from Robert. His shoulders shook softly where Robert’s hand still lay. 

“Leave then, there are a thousand jobs to do around the kingdom. Live a little before you croak.” Robert pushed his hand against Ned’s shoulder in an attempt to shake him out of his sadness. Ned only lifted his head, eyes red with unshed tears. 

“Who will rule?” He looked to Robert for guidance, as he always had. And Robert, for all of his flaws, could never deny Ned. 

“I will, Lord Arryn will be my Hand. I’ll take the throne, I won it after all.” Robert allowed himself a chuckle of pride which earned him the edges of another worn through smile. It was quickly overtaken by more doubt much to Robert’s disappointment.

“What about Lyanna, you were going to find her after the war ended.” 

“You should go and find her. I can live the high life here while you do.” Robert gestured to his wounded leg, wrapped up in white. He had given and Ned was ready to take. 

“Of course.” Ned understood this meant forfeiting the kingdom forever. Robert failed to understand the weight of what he was about to undertake in. “You’re king then, of all of us.” 

Robert pulled his hand away from Ned’s shoulder as he caught a glimpse of the drawings again. “My Direwolf won’t choke on its crown, it will wear it like a true king should: wild and free.” 

\---

Eddard Baratheon will still return to his wife with someone else's child. He will raise seven children and teach them to stand strong against the storm. When Robert asks Ned will give. He will ride off to play a game he could never hope to win. He will try to be good up until the ancestral blade of Robert's house comes swinging down on his neck.

Robert Stark will still sleep in the dragon's bed and marry a lion who gives him 3 children, none of which will be his. He will drink and fuck and rule so poorly that it's a miracle the kingdom doesn’t fall apart beneath him. When things start to fall apart he will do as he has always done, he will call for Ned. On his deathbed, with a quill in hand, he will try for the first time in 17 years. It will not be enough.


End file.
